I Wish
by Fletset
Summary: Kyle discovers beer, Stan discovers Kyle and... fluff ensues.


**Disclaimer: **South Park is not mine…

Sorry for spelling/grammar, English is not my native language. Besides, there might be errors that I missed...

* * *

**I Wish**

I can recognize Kyle even if I can't see his face. You see, when you know someone for as long as I have known Kyle, you learn to recognize them not just by the way they look, but also by the way they walk, or how their figure looks like. We can stand at two ends of a football field, far from each other, and I'd still be able to know that it's him standing there.

I'm really glad that I met him. I can tell him all of my innermost secrets, I can go to him with my problems and he would help me solve them, I can go to him whenever I'm bored so we can get bored together. Kyle is my one and only.

I think… I think I've always loved him. I didn't mind if I was to be called a fag for it, I don't know why… but when you love someone with all of your heart and soul, then nothing else matters. You wonder if that love is right only in the beginning, when it just appears. But as time passes you learn to accept it, and those doubts will return only when those feelings of love would pass.

I never had a beginning, I think. I've always loved him. There was a time I thought I have to be with a girl, and I was for a bit, but as I got older I realized that it doesn't really matter. I wanted Kyle to be near me all the time, I wanted to feel his arms around me and his breath against my exposed neck, followed by his warm pair of lips.

I've always wanted him.

My grades have dropped because I can't stop staring at him when we're at the same class. I don't fucking care for History. I mean, cool, we kicked some Japs' asses and won, that's all there is to know, right? The only ass I Care about is Kyle's…

God damnit, I sound like Kenny. People say that when you hang around someone so much you start to speak like them, sometimes act like them. God help me if I start hating Jews suddenly…

My parents got mad at me for my grades, but I don't give a shit anymore. All I care about is Kyle, and as long as I have this feeling in my heart and him by my side, then nothing else matters. At least, that's what I thought.

As time passed, and those feelings only grew stronger within me, thinking of him wasn't enough. Every time he touched me for this reason or another I would feel warmth enveloping me as if I was snuggling under a blanket on a really cold night. I was afraid to touch him, fearing that if I made contact I won't be able to stop myself from hugging him and just feeling him in my arms. I need him so bad…

I'm not trying to take him for myself, I could never do that. I don't think he feels the same way, I don't want to be heartbroken. It's not that I enjoy only looking at him from afar, but this is all I have. I need him so much, though.

I couldn't be satisfied with my feelings anymore, as I said, so I let my mind play scenes of me and him together.

There's a special spot that only I know of. Somewhere between Stark's Pond and the mountains surrounding the town, hidden well under foliage. I go there a lot, saying that I can't study at home because it's too noisy. If my parents would call my friends, they won't find me there. And it's not like I was lying, because I _was _studying… just not the things they thought I am. When I'm there, I'm the happiest man on earth.

I only wish that Kyle was there with me.

Sometimes, all I need is to imagine him smile. His smile is so gentle, almost hesitant, mysterious. His smile is almost sad, at times. I want to hug him so tight when I see him smile like that and take all of his pain away.

One Friday night I went to my secluded spot, and was surprised to see that someone beat me to there. That surprise changed into delight when I noticed just who it was. I can recognize his figure everywhere.

How did Kyle find this place? I approached him slowly, wanting to touch him and see if it's really him and not my mind playing one trick too many on me. He turned his head to look at me, and my heart fell.

He was drunk.

His eyes were unfocused and his cheeks were flushed, an empty bottle of vodka at his feet. I gulped the lump the formed in my throat. I… I knew that he has problems, I knew that he gets drunk sometimes, but… I never _saw _him drunk. We hang out on Saturdays nights, not on Friday nights, when every one of us had something else to do.

He smiled at me and rose to his feet, losing his balance and falling on the ground. He started laughing and it pained my heart. It wasn't from happiness. I crouched next to him and watched as he lifted the empty bottle and tried to drink. He frowned when he found out that the bottle is empty and threw it to his side. He mumbled something incoherent - his speech slurred - and took my hand in his own, smiling at me. My heart thumped wildly in my chest and my cheeks were hot from just feeling his gentle fingers around my own. I couldn't avert my gaze from his green eyes, as unfocused and lifeless as they were. No matter what, his green eyes will always be beautiful.

My body and mind both told me to do something about that lust and love I've been feeling for so long, making me hear my heartbeat in my ears and my breathing slow. My hand went up to caress his curls, which felt like silk between my fingers. His eyes fluttered closed, and I can swear I heard him moan quietly.

I touched his cheek lightly, feeling him almost nuzzling my hand. My sweet, sweet Kyle… I moved my face down to the point I could feel his breath on my face. I closed my eyes and closed the distance between me and my drunk friend, savoring the feeling of his lips against mine and the taste of alcohol they had. I didn't budge, feeling as if all my craving for him only grew stronger. I don't know how long I stayed like that, but at some point or another, I felt him kissing me back. My heart soared and I deepened the kiss, climbing on top of him for a better approach. He wrapped his arms around me and I could taste all the drinks he had that night in my mouth. I wish I could take it all away.

Kyle has always been the mysterious one. He won't come to me for help unless he really has nowhere else to turn, while I go to him for every little thing. I know that his parents pressure him a lot lately, mostly about getting good grades. He's doing his best; I know he does, because most of the time he never hangs out with us. He thinks about studying all the time, because his parents make him to, giving him only Friday and Saturday nights as his times off (unless he has an exam). He mentioned something about Ike, I think… he told me that his parents only care for his little brother, or something like that. About a year ago he discovered beer, and he spends a lot of his Friday nights at Kenny's house, simply getting himself drunk senseless. I know that he knows it's bad for him to drink so much, but he tells me that this is his way of having fun with his parents always on his case.

And now, in his drunken state, he kisses me and moans into my mouth. I have no idea how he got here; usually he stays at Kenny's until morning comes. I kiss his neck, sucking at the pale skin. I want to show him how much I care, I want him to tell me what's wrong with him. I feel his hand under my black shirt, touching my skin as I keep on attacking him with my kisses. Suddenly his hands go limp and they leave my body in favor of the ground. All the drinks he had took their final toll. I don't stop, though. I can't stop, not when I'm finally doing what I so craved for. My hands touch his body and I rest my head on his chest, breathing in his scent. I wish we could stay like that forever, just me and my love.

As morning draws near I know that I have to do something. I can't let him wake up next to me and see me hugging him or he'll get suspicious. I get up, straighten my clothes and lift him. I can't shake off this feeling of complete joy just from the fact that he's in my arms. His sleeping face is peaceful, and I blush just from seeing it. I don't care about the dark circles under his eyes, or about the drool next to his moth, or his very messy hair. I lean down and kiss him gently again, almost wishing that this was a fairytale and he would wake up and tell me that he loves me. But this is no fairytale, as much as I want it to be, and I know that if he'd wake up and notice that I'm kissing him, he'll flip out.

I take him back to Kenny's house. I know that he's probably awake because he works on Saturday morning. I knock on whatever's left from his door, and he opens it short moments later. He has only a pair of torn boxers on, his hair is ruffled, and he looks at me oddly.

"So he ended up at your place?" he asks me. I blush and nod. "He does that every night lately… disappearing somewhere. I gave up on searching."

"Every time?" I ask, looking at the person in my arms worriedly. He could get himself in a serious danger if he'll wander the streets in the middle of the night, drunk like that.

Kenny nods again. "Yeah, usually after the seventh bottle."

I pale. "He drinks that much?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Kenny scratches inside of his boxers and yawns. "Yeah. Can't beat my dad yet, though."

"Did he ever tell you why he does that?" I ask as I sadly give my love to Kenny to take care of.

"He said something about a bitchy mother and an unsupportive dad… I think I can understand him. He's at the top of our class and his stupid parents still demand him for more… you think it's because he's Jewish?"

I want to laugh, but all I'm capable of right now is a chuckle. "I think you hang around Cartman too much, Kenny."

He shrugs. "Well, thanks for bringing him back. I gotta go get ready now, if I'm late one more time that Nazi boss will cut ten dollars from my paycheck."

This time I manage to laugh and I wave him goodbye.

* * *

When I meet Kyle in school on Monday, I can't look at him straight in the eye. Not after what I've done to him. He notices it, he even confronts me about it, but I can't tell him.

At lunch hour I sit next to him as usual. "Say," I start, trying to open my can of soft drink. "If you were getting drunk every week without me, you'd tell me, right?"

He stops eating and looks at me, almost scared. "Where did that come from?"

I shrug. "It's just that… you told me that you go drinking a lot, but… do you do that every week?"

He sighs and rubs his forehead. "I- yeah, dude. I do it every week… unless my stupid parents ground me to study, which they done… today."

I take a sip from my drink. "Can't you… not tell them when you have an exam?"

He clenches his hand into a fist. "They called the school and asked for the exams schedule..."

"But… do you have to drink?"

"Look, Stan," he says, hitting the table. "I've got no freedom. Until I live on my own, those times when I get drunk are the only times when I'm free. Take that away, and I'll be in prison."

It's not right, and I wish I could tell him that. There are many ways in which he could get his freedom. "Don't you have fun with me?" I ask.

"Of course I have fun with you." He says immediately, and I think that it's so obvious to him that he's supposed to say it that he doesn't actually mean it.

"Then why won't you hang out with me, dude? It's much better than getting drunk…"

"What do _you_ know?" he says angrily and piles all his leftovers on his plate, getting ready to leave. "See you in English."

"Yeah," I respond, but I don't think he hears me.

I do see him in English, too much even. He's sitting next to me, and during the entire class I get Goosebumps and shiver. "Are you cold?" he whispers in my ear when only three minutes are left until class is over. He rubs my back in a friendly manner, and I close my eyes, feeling at bliss. "Are you not feeling well?" he asks. I almost laugh at the irony. I feel so good right now that I don't care if the ceiling drops and I'll die.

Jesus, if only he knew…

But I still can't look at him in the eye.

I wonder if he'll come to my spot this Friday. I hope he does.

* * *

Friday comes ever so slowly, and I'm again at my secret spot, thinking of the dream I had that night, in which Kyle loves me back and holds me in my arms. I don't usually remember my dreams, but when they involve Kyle, There's no way I can forget them. What I wish for only happens in my dreams, and even though I know it can never happen, I wake up happy.

I closed my eyes, enjoying the chill of the spring's night, and thought about my dream. In the latest one I had, he told me he loved me. I open my eyes when I hear a noise, and I look to the side. I grin like and idiot when I see him walking in in his drunken state. He spots me and smiles, offering me the empty bottle he's holding. I shake my head and signals for him to sit next to me. "Why are you drunk?" I ask him quietly.

"'Cuz life's a bitch," he says and hiccups.

"Don't you like living?" I ask him, watching him as he stares into nothing.

"I'll tell you what I like," he says and turns to look at me, and I swear that for a minute he looks sober. I blush at the seriousness in his eyes, when I hear him… fart. He bursts out laughing, and I feel like punching him. But I can't, I could never hurt the one I love.

"Bastard," I say.

"Come on!" he says and pats me on my shoulder too violently. "It's funny!"

"It's not." I hope he can't hear the disappointment in my voice. He stops laughing and lies down, resting his head on my thigh. "W-what are you doing?" I stutter.

He pinches my cheek gently. "You're so cute…" he says, and I blush yet again. I'm such a pussy. He turns his head and buries it in the fabric of my pants.

"Kyle… come on, dude, get up." I try to push him away. I don't want to force myself on him again.

"No," he protests, but does sit down. He does it so quickly, in fact, that I'm unable to dodge when he leans in and kisses me. It's not very gentle, but not too violent. His breath reeks of alcohol yet again, and his lips taste bitter. He pushes me down so he's on top, and I don't resist. I feel his hands in my hair, pulling it. It hurts a bit, but I don't care. Our tongues clash and I hug him, trying to get him as closest to me as I can get him. His hands touch my skin again, and I feel like I'm in heaven. It's great that I'm able to love him so much… I don't care that he's drunk when we kiss like that. It takes him longer this time, but he passes out on me again. Just like the week before, I keep on kissing him until I get tired of him not returning it. "I love you," I whisper in his ear as we lie there, hugged.

I take my passed out friend in my arms and take him back to Kenny's. Kenny opens the door, munching on a piece of dry bread. "He came to you again?" he asks, crumbs flying out of his mouth.

I nod, almost hesitantly. "Y-yeah… he did."

Kenny swallows. "Good," he says. "I'm going to stop giving him drinks."

My head shoots up. "What? Why?"

He raises his eyebrow. "My dad starts to get suspicious. Besides, I don't want Kyle to end up like my dad, dude. He should stop drinking."

I look at him, then at Kyle and then at him again, searching for words but finding none. "But… but…" I stutter.

Kenny chuckles. "You want him to get drunk so you can keep on fucking him?" I blush. "I knew it."

"I don't fuck him!" I retort, louder than I meant it to be.

Kenny laughs. "Look, I don't care what you do to him, alright? It's just not healthy."

Then I get an idea. "I'll pay you ten bucks every week if you'll get him drunk," I say finally.

He stops laughing and looks at me doubtfully. "What?"

"I'll pay you," I repeat my words.

"Y-you've gotta be kidding me, Stan. Fuck, this is not funny."

I nod. "I'm serious. You'll get ten bucks for every time you get him drunk."

"I-I…" he stutters, looking straight at me, then at Kyle, who's still being held in my arms. "I don't know, dude."

"Please!" I beg. I think I sound too hysteric. "Get him drunk!"

"Fine, fine," he says and takes Kyle away from me. "I'll get him drunk. I don't know how it helps you, but I wouldn't want to be in your shoes when he wakes up to find you raping him."

"I don't rape him, Kenny. Goddamnit…"

"Sure you aren't," he sounds so serious that it almost scares me. "Can I get an advance?" he asks.

"What?"

"An advance. Give my five dollars so I can buy a bottle of something."

"Tomorrow," I say. He nods, tells me good night, and I walk back to my house, wondering whether mom is awake and waiting for me.

* * *

Kenny promised me the next day when the four of us hung out that he'll buy something strong for Kyle to drink. Kyle was looking at me oddly the entire day, like he knew something was going on. I hope he doesn't know. He ignored Cartman completely for the entire day, and only stared at me. I was blushing under his gaze, and every time I talked to him it came out in quiet stutters. When we went back home, Kenny told me that Kyle will get drunk tonight, as well, so I better have five dollars ready.

Sometimes, he can be such a greedy bastard…

As promised, Kyle does end up in my secret spot that night. I wonder how he found this place, or how he remembers how to get there every time. I don't give a fuck, though. I'm just happy that he got there.

I'm already there when he arrives, waiting for him. He looks… less drunk than usual, I wonder if it's just me. He sits next to me and stares into my eyes, his expression serious. "I love your eyes," he whispers and kisses each eyelid. I shiver and hold his hand, which he put on my shoulder. "And I love your nose," he continues and kisses my nose gently. I can smell his breath again, and it makes me frown. "And your lips," he kisses my lips then and doesn't let go, holding my cheeks with his hands. I'm at bliss, and I kiss him back. I wonder if maybe I should pay Kenny to get him drunk _every _night, but I won't do that. I don't want to get him drunk too much. He pulls away and puts his head on my shoulder, running his hand on my chest with a smile so gentle on his face that I wonder if he really is drunk, or just faking it.

"Why do you get drunk?" I ask him, staring down at his smiling face.

"'Cuz mom's a bitch," he replies and pecks my cheek. "She won't let me hang out with you next week…" my heart drops when I hear those news. Maybe… maybe it's wrong? Maybe I shouldn't have him get drunk so much, for my own use. But I love the touch of his lips so much…

He kisses me on my lips again and interrupts my thoughts. I accept his kiss happily.

He doesn't pass out on me this time. I think he drank less today. He protests when I'm trying to stand up and tries to keep me down so he can kiss me more. I push him away. "We have to get back," I tell him.

"But I like it here!" he argues, sounding like a baby. I force him to stand up, pulling at his arm, and he obliges. He can barely keep his balance and leans on me, breathing into my ear.

We start walking, or rather swaying. I don't want to take him to Kenny and decide that it'd be better if I'll take him to my place. My parents are asleep when I get back and I help him up the stairs. I think he recognizes the place, because he pushes me away when we get upstairs and runs into the bathroom to throw up. "Are you okay?" I ask him as I stand next to the sink, watching his hunched figure.

"Y-yeah…" he stutters, and throws up again. He stands up wobbly and washes his face, and for the first time I notice the redness in his eyes.

"Jesus, Kyle," I say and help him to my room and onto my bed. He looks almost sick when it's lit. He takes my hand in his own as he lies down, and it doesn't take him long to fall asleep. God, I want to kiss him so bad…

I lie next to him, careful not to touch him. I can't let him wake up and see me hugging him…

I wake up in the morning to the sound of curses next to me. I turn my head and see my friend holding his head, his eyes shut, and words that his mother would ground him for are coming out from between his clenched teeth.

"Hangover?" I ask tiredly, yawning.

"Yeah…" he answers and looks at me. "Why the hell am I in your house?"

"Kenny brought you here, he said he can't have you stay…" I hope that he doesn't know I'm lying. It looks like he's doesn't believe me, but lets it go.

"Can you make me some coffee, please?" He asks.

I nod and sit up, scratching. "Do you want some aspirin too?"

"Yeah," he replies. "And don't talk so fucking loud." I smile and leave the room in order to get him what he asked for.

"Don't you have to go to church?" He asks me after he's done drinking his coffee.

"Yeah, in about an hour. It's pretty early now."

"Well," he starts and gets up from my bed. "I better go or my mom will be pissed…"

I watch him as he starts to leave, and before I can do something I hear my voice calling for him. He turns around, my cheeks go hot like fire. "Nevermind," I say. He looks at me oddly and then leaves.

* * *

In school he avoids me. He always stares at me, and it makes me uncomfortable. I want him to be next to me again, but I know that I can't ask him to do that. Sometimes I get the feeling that he wants to tell me something, I can see it in his eyes, but every time he gives up and leaves.

On Friday, I half expect him not to be there. I think he knows something is going on. But to my relief, he's there. I see his back and I smile. I wrap my arms around him lovingly, nuzzling his neck. He holds my arm and turns around to face me. I don't see him well in the darkness, and give him a peck on his lips. Something's not right, but I can't really place my finger on it. "Who's the bitch this time?" I ask him, gazing at him lovingly. He doesn't reply. "Why do you get drunk all the time?" I try again, thinking that he didn't understand what I wanted from him.

He's not answering, and I'm about to ask him again when I see him standing up. "Because you pay Kenny." He says.

"W-what?" I pale and am unable to move. "How-"

"How do I know? Damnit, you're…" he can't continue. I wonder what's going on in his mind.

"I'm so sorry, Kyle…"

"Sorry! You used me, Stan! You used my fragile condition for your own pleasure! Jesus…" I say nothing in return. "How… how far have we gone?" he asks quietly after a moment of silence.

I shake my head. "All we did was kiss, I swear. And you… you were also kissing me, so I-" I stop talking when I see him sitting back down.

"How can I believe you?" he asks, and tears spring to my eyes. "I thought… I thought we were best friends, Stan. How could you?"

I wipe my eyes. "It's… you kissed me back," my voice quivers.

"So what? I was drunk, God damnit!" He seizes my shoulders. "I trusted you!" his voice quivers like mine. "And you…"

I start crying with choked sobs. "I'm sorry, Kyle," I say and bury my head in the palms of my hands. I'm surprised to feel him hugging me. I want to ask him why, but decide against it; I know it might be the last time he'll touch me… or talk to me. And it hurts so much because I know it's my fault. "I'm so sorry."

"Shhh…" he whispers, rubbing my back. "I-it's okay, dude. It really is."

I cry on his shoulder. "It's not okay!" I yell. "I was wrong, very wrong. I don't know how I could do it to you!"

"Because you love me," he says back, his voice barely above a whisper. I say nothing, I only cry. I hear him gulp. "Just as I love you," he finishes. I start crying harder, and he tightens his old on me. He kisses me on my forehead and tries to calm me down, but it doesn't work. "I forgive you," he says. "Please, stop crying…"

"Aren't you mad?" I ask, my sobs lessening.

I hear him sigh. "I am mad, but… not as mad as you think I am. I just wanted to know why you did it." I can't answer to that, even I myself don't know. "But I know why," he continues. "I just wish you would have told me sooner…"

"I couldn't," I say and feel him nod.

"We both dealt with it, with what we felt, in a different way," he tells me and I wonder what he means. "You used me and I… I made Kenny get me drunk every week." I look at him, shocked. I want to say something, but he silences me by pressing his lips against mine.

I wish… I wish time would stop right now.

_  
End_

_

* * *

_

Please review and tell me what you think!


End file.
